The Lonely and Unfulfilling Life of a Spy
by Vuirneen
Summary: The minion arrives in Draqueen. Hopefully, she can put her feet up and take a rest.
1. Introducing The Minions

scene setting   
A long, dark and lonely path, leading to a long, dark and lonely castle. The rain has turned the solid-seeming track to mud. Many damp grimy and uncomfortable looking trees line the mountain path.

add sound effects  
The drizzle of rain and the lashing of thunder enthral our senses. The tingle before the lightning strikes is strangely soothing.

add cast of characters  
The distant figure of some form of man can be seen trudging through the mire. Close up a gruesome visage can be seen attached to a body spying on him from high atop a tree. On second viewing the visage isn't that ugly, just mud covered and the rain has plastered its hair to it in a particularly unflattering way.  
run story

The lonely figure of the man continues his sad trek up the mountain path, pulling free one mud-soaked leg after another, with an almost audible slurp. The rain has soaked his clothing through, causing it to stick to his manly figure and showing off what he's got in the best way possible. His long hair has been tied back, for once and it is no longer possible to see the colour change from black to brown. 

The gruesome visage sighs longingly as it is joined by another creature in the treetops. 

"Still watching the dragon?"  
"Yeah. This is either the greatest job in the world or the worst torture imaginable. I mean, look at him! It's raining, he's soaked through, covered in mud and he's still drop dead gorgeous. I hear all the dragons are like this too. Imagine living in a town full of them."  
"Actually, I think it's just a castle full, from what I hear."  
"A castle full is still a lot of pretty, pretty people. I'd give my left arm for a roomful. I mean, judging from you, I look a mess. It's not fair."  
"Not fair?"  
"Come on. You seriously don't think that we stand a chance here?"  
"I dunno. If we had a bit of warning, managed to get a nice warm bath, scrape off the mud, wash our hair, try on a nice dress, get a chic perfume, a few flowers....what?"  
"How likely is that in this job? Who's going to give us time off to get our hair done? Not to mention the fact that it never stops bloody raining here, so in two seconds, flat, we'd look like this again."  
"Still, if we managed to get indoors..."  
"What? Into the damp and extremely draughty castle yonder? You know what the yokai up there are like. They'd pull our hair, try to look up our skirts..."  
"I know, I used to live there. I was so happy to be moved out. At the time I was anyway. I didn't realise that it rained ALL the time. Mind you, there's a few pretty boys up there too. Not dragon pretty and they're mean."  
"Yeah, why is it that you know how evil a yokai is by how attracted you are to him? "  
"In that case, we must be angels"

The laughing lasts for a few seconds, until the two realise what they're laughing at and the implications for their love lives. 

"God, I'm depressed. I'd love to get closer, but we're not supposed to be seen. And I really don't want to scare him off either."  
"I think we could get a little closer. Soon we'll be barely able to see him."  
"That makes sense. Let's see if we can sneak up to a closer tree. There's a good one over there."

The scene shifts as two shadows move lightly from tree to tree, pausing briefly before a few death-defying leaps. The land bound figure grows larger as the camera follows the shadows who travel ever closer. The gruesome visage needn't have worried. The gorgeous Dragon (for we can now make out the beautiful features on his noble face) is too preoccupied with freeing himself from the clinging mud to notice the activities in the treetops above him. 

"This view is much better" whispers the gruesome visage. The dragon still shows no sign of having noticed their presence, so she continues emboldened. "I think this is the best days minioning I've ever had."  
"Minioning?"  
"Well, we're minions, so we must minion. We therefore engage in the activity of minioning."  
"We're not minions," the second creature sounds offended. "We're spies."  
"Spies?"  
"We're spying on him right?"  
"I dunno, being a spy sounds much cooler than what we're doing now." 

The creatures settle, while the dragon fights the mud and continues his slow creep towards the castle. 

"Well, it looks like he's definitely heading up towards the castle."  
"That's what you came out here to check? Is there anything else around here that would hold the vaguest interest for a dragon?"  
"Well, he might have heard of something that we didn't. Unknown prophecies are always dumping the most sacred of items in the midst of the bad guy's stronghold."  
"Even if a prophecy did place an item of unknown power out here, how would anyone find it under all this mud?"  
"All right. I wanted to get a good look at the dragon before the castle yokai kill him. They have something interesting planned. If he'd by any chance been diverted from the castle, we were supposed to lead him there."  
"How? It's not like our chat-up lines would work and he'd beat us in a fair fight."  
"I dunno. You might pass for a humble peasant."  
"Humble peasants usually wear more clothes."  
"Might I ask why...?"  
"Oh, the clothing tends to rot right off in this weather and the mud more than covers me. Given that I live in the shadows anyway, no-one's noticed. At least, no-one's said anything."  
"Mud and twigs."  
"And the odd bit of grass."  
"A humble, naked peasant?"  
"What's there to farm up here? There's no animal that can feast on mud. Even a pig needs a food source too."  
"Dragon's would think of that, wouldn't they?"  
"It's said they're smart all right. Else the vast army of yokai would have crushed them aeons ago."  
"I dunno, it's hard to get an army of yokai to do anything. Gather even three of them in one place and you usually have a fight. The more powerful ones get bored easily too and see no reason to answer to anyone."  
"Yeah. Lord Nadil had a hard time getting some of the powerful ones to agree with his plan. I don't know how Shydeman and Shyredora are managing. They need the Head. Then all will fall into line." She pauses for a moment then adds uncomfortably, "except Kharl the Alchemist."  
"Ugh." The creature shivers noticeably. "I'm glad he's not on our side. The last time he "helped" the army, dozens of creatures like us got sacrificed to his experiments."  
"I guess a neutral Kharl is the best Kharl."  
"I don't like talking about him. I always get the feeling that he's listening every time someone speaks his name."  
"Then change the topic. Quickly." 

The comfortable darkness grows eerie as the two try to eradicate the thought of Kharl the alchemist from their minds. 

"Well, the dragon has gotten infinitesimally closer to his goal."  
"Should we keep calling him 'the dragon'?"  
"What?"  
"I dunno. It just feels as though, we've been watching him for so long, maybe we should name him?"  
"Like a pet? Why do you want to name the dragon?"  
"It just seems a little disrespectful."  
"And calling him Poochie or Bubbles is not?"  
"I wouldn't call him Poochie. Or Bubbles. He'd have a good name, a noble name. A proper dragon name."  
"And typical dragon names are...?"  
"I dunno. It'd have to be two syllables. One just isn't classy enough. Tharg. Nrod. Doesn't fit. Has to be two syllables."  
"At least."  
"At least."

"Runkfist."  
"Eeew. That sounds like an ogre name. Um, something more like Ruuuuu...Rufius."  
"Rufius sounds really poncy."  
"I know. Glasgow."  
"Not poncy enough. How about Tarquin?"  
"Are you really trying?"  
"Col..temus."  
"That's three. Ifran."  
"Ifran I like. Not for him, but maybe my newest spawn. He looks like an Ifran."  
"Congratulations. How big was he?"  
"Twelve pounds, three ounces. He takes after me."  
"You should've said something."  
"Well, you know how it goes. They pop out.."  
"Or slither out."  
"...or slither out and it's back to work."

The new mother sighs, pondering the lack of maternity leave in the all new Nadil-less Nadil's Army. Her companion settles herself into the embrace of the trees, glad, for once, that she's still all alone. 

"Hey I think the rain's getting worse."  
"That's even possible?"  
"Well, you know, they say that we need omens like dire weather to presage the downfall of the dragonlord." She looks thoughtfully at the figure that's now slowed to a crawl. "I wonder if they'll let us keep one after the dragonlord dies."  
"The line'll be wiped out. They won't want to risk a new dragonlord rising in his place."  
"Pity."  
"What? That the scourge of our race will be wiped from the face of this earth, never to rise again?"  
"Well. He's cute."  
"I know. It is a pity." 

A trickle of water, having travelled the length of countless leaves, reaches its ultimate goal down the sensitive neck of the speaker. 

"Ack. The tree's soaked through. Won't be long before it's as wet here as it is out there."  
"Damn. I've got a lot more dragon-watching to do before I can return to the hide."  
"Yeah, I'd better go and report to the captain. Discharge my final duty before I knock off for the night."  
"You lucky cow."  
"Hey, at least you've the lovely dragon to keep you company."  
"He's not very talkative though. I haven't heard one word from him. He doesn't even talk to himself. What kind of freak is he?"  
"You know, a damn cute scourge-of-our-race that must be wiped out by the yokai of the castle."  
"I suppose it is better than watching a bear trawl through mud. A bear that might just be a dragon in disguise."

The restless visitor laughs. 

"Don't tell me that you were the one that got stuck watching that situation?"

The eyes in the gruesome visage are rolled splendidly. 

"Luckily, I was due to be relieved after only two hours. Poor Cattil had the worst of it." 

The visitor stretches and moves silently along the tree branch. 

"Well, I'm off. Good luck."  
"Goodnight. Say hi to Ifran for me."

With a quick wave, the creature leaves and soon it is only the sound of the dropping rain that gives company to our original subject. She sighs down at the struggling dragon. 

"I guess it's just you and me mister. For the long haul." 


	2. Dragon Goes In

Welcome to Draft 24. 

* * *

scene setting   
A long, dark and lonely castle stands before us. A long dark and lonely path lined with damp, grimy and uncomfortable-looking trees leads from it down the mountainside. The falling rain is keeping this track dank and muddy.

add sound effects   
The drizzle of rain and the lashing of thunder continue to enthral our senses. The tingle before the lightning strikes has grown stronger.

add cast of characters   
Only one figure can be made out from the drizzle. A mud-encrusted body seems to be keeping watch from high among the treetops, on said dark and lonely castle.  
run story 

The figure switches from active watching to passive watching. The distinction is notable to those engaged in the activity of spying, but not immediately recognisable to those untrained in the arts. Let it just be said that nothing escapes the eagle eyes of a fully trained active watcher, whereas some stuff might escape the view of a passive watcher. This explains how James Bond is able to sneak into the most tightly guarded and carefully watched strongholds with only a tuxedo and a grappling hook for company. Active watching - burns more calories than passive watching, but grows old fast when nothing happens. 

The muddy body mutters to herself. 

"I wonder how long I have to wait here now? I mean, the dragon's gone in and he ain't coming out. It's a shame, but that's what happens when you go up against a castle full of yokai." She sighs. "What's appropriate? One hour? Two?" 

The figure stretches out along her branch. 

"It's not fair. The first dragon and likely the last I'll ever see and he's been wiped out by the scum of the castle. I didn't even get a souvenir and I'll bet those bastards won't leave me anything. Not a lock of his sweet hair, not a finger, not an ear. They have such lovely ears. Be something to show my grandkids that would." She sighs again. "If I ever have any." 

Out of duty, she casts her eyes along the castle, skimming over the walls and paying careful attention to windows and doors. There's no sign inside of what's happened to her dragon. He probably bought it in the depths of the castle. 

"What's the usual thing for yokai? Would they just dump his body outside the castle, or bury it deep inside some dungeon. I wonder if they'll put it up on spikes as a warning to others." This morbid train of thought distracts her momentarily. "Maybe they'll eat the body. They're that uncivilised up here." 

The wind wraps around her as it prepares for its assault on the castle. 

"I bet he has nice things. Pretty things. Poor dragon." 

She resettles herself on her perch once more. 

"Still, what was he thinking? One dragon. One castle. Surely he knew that it'd be full of yokai. Surely he knew that we'd be watching him approach. Surely he knew that we were waiting. Surely he knew that he'd never get out alive." Her head shakes once more. "Foolish, foolish dragon. I hope you didn't leave any family." 

Another quick glance at the castle reveals nothing. 

"I bet he'd make pretty babies though. Just like him. Pretty, brave and stupid enough to assault a yokai castle on their own." 

She starts to cheer up again. 

"Maybe stupid enough to seek revenge. Wow, there could be more dragons coming to the castle. This time I'll be ready. This time I'll, I'll, bring my sketchbook, or maybe a pair of scissors on a stick, with a bit of string attached to the other end." Her eyes have lit up. It's cute to watch. "I could grab a bit of hair or clothing or something." 

She wraps her arms around her. 

"Oh I'm bored. How long before I can leave? I wanna go!" 

She drums her feet against the branch. 

"Okay, what's beyond reasonable? Say, enter the castle, five minutes. Fight off first wave of yokai, twenty minutes. Explore the castle, one hour. Realise that you're getting nowhere, five minutes. Ask for directions, twenty minutes, given that you've slaughtered a large proportion of the castle's inhabitants. Figure out where you're going and get there, twenty minutes, the castle isn't THAT big. Do what you came for, ten minutes. Leave the castle, twenty minutes." 

The next twenty minutes are spent in leisurely addition. Well, there's not going to be anything to distract her once she's finished this task and thinking is not traditionally the strong point of creatures such as her, no matter how many big words they can use in a sentence. She adds it all up and comes to a rough total of two hours and forty minutes. 

Her thoughts return, of course, to the dragon. 

"I wonder what could drive him to suicide? It must have been madness. Unless, maybe he annoyed his lord and he sent my dragon on a mission of great peril, in the hope that he'd get topped off. What a mean lord." She shakes her fist angrily in the direction of Draqueen. Or she would have, if she'd known where it was. She just shakes her fist angrily in general and a darn good shaking it was too. "Still, they say that the dragonlord's cold and hard. He sent loads of Dragon Knights to die when his queen was captured, until he finally came himself. He even cut off Lord Nadil's head. For a little while at least. He must be really strong and scary then." She shivers at the thought of this cruel and merciless beast. "I hope I don't meet him. I bet he kills twenty yokai a day and bathes in their blood!" 

The girl frantically conjures up a vision of this evil (wait, aren't we the evil ones?) and ruthless monster. 

"I bet he's got blood red eyes and that icky, black, viscous stuff oozes from his mouth. I bet that his skin's as cold as ice and that they have to throw newborn babies to him hourly, in order to satisfy his bloodthirsty rages. I bet he froths at the mouth when he speaks and that there's one dragon dedicated to translating his half muttered ramblings. I bet that his woman can't bear to touch him and that he doesn't treat her with proper respect at all. I bet he never buys her flowers and that she secretly has a crush on another dragon." 

She pauses, the entire, sordid story revealed before her. 

"I bet it's my dragon, the dragon that just went into the castle. I bet that she fell in love with him, but that he was too noble to betray his lord, so out of spite she told the dragonlord lies and HE sent HIM to his death. Dragons are cruel." 

She sighs at the duplicity and evil of the dragons to their own. 

"My poor, dear, dead dragon. Your tale was a tragedy of unmitigated sorrow." 

While empathising, deeply, with her dearly departed, she glances at the sky. 

"Another 4 hours. It'll be dark before my time's up." 

She yawns. 

"How can I kill time? At least if they'd left me a body I could be gone by now. But no, castle yokai never think of the little people. Not us lowly minions watching from the rain and hey, it's letting up a little." 

The rain has indeed eased slightly. Amazed at this change in her surroundings the girl decides to do something. 

"I could go for a walk. I probably shouldn't wander too far away though. I know, if I walk around the castle, that's close to what I should be doing and it could be enjoyable. It'll kill a little time too. At least half an hour or so." 

The girl drops lightly through the branches to the ground. The mud creeps over her ankles and makes for her knees. She starts moving before she sinks too deeply into it. Luckily, she is well practised in wading through the mud and she makes far better time than the dragon did. 

"A bit more rain and I'd be enjoying a nice mud swim." 

She moves closer to the castle, although she keeps a respectful distance. She doesn't want to set off the castle yokai, especially not mud-bound as she currently is. Their sense of humour is decidedly depraved and they get bored quickly. Actually, it's kinda funny. Having destroyed a dragon should have really cheered them and put them into dangerously high spirits. They're being very quiet. The girl doesn't know anything much about the castle, except by rumour, this is the closest she's ever been, but surely she should be able to hear a mad bunch like them. Even from this distance. The stories are LEGENDARY. 

She pauses and listens actively. (Same distinction as at the beginning of the chapter. Except that she's not as good at active listening.) No screams, no cries, no yells, no yodels. No sign of real yokai. Anyone would think that it was your ordinary, run-of-the-mill deserted castle. Not being particularly worried, but warning herself not to get too complacent she sets off on her round. 

The walk is quite pleasant. Although the sun doesn't quite make an appearance, the glare from the clouds is a little brighter than usual. Birds are engaged in territorial vocal battles and various small animals run, cavort and kill each other for food. Normally such animals shy away from the haunts of yokai, except for the slimy ones, so this is a nice change for the girl. 

The first sign of yokai life comes around a bend in the castle walls. A heap of broken furniture and various scraps and rags are piled up against the wall, left where they fell from the windows above. 

"Typical. First sign of these creatures is their rubbish." 

Not wanting to have her wade spoiled, the girl makes her way onwards. However, the habits of a lifetime interfere and she sorts through the rubbish mentally. The furniture seems to have been smashed apart, either in a vicious fight, or a wild party. The edges are still sharp so it must have been recent. There are only bits of furniture too, nothing that makes up a whole chair, or a table. There are also several gashes in the wood that seem to have been made by swords, axes or claws. The rags and scraps appear to have been former tapestries and curtains and such torn to pieces in a similar manner and stained by what appears to be blood, or else cheap red wine. 

One pile of rags in particular appears to still be bleeding. The girl takes several steps beyond the rubbish heap before she realises what this may mean. 


	3. Dragon Comes Out

scene setting   
A room underground. The walls are hewn from rock. Surprisingly, it's very comfortable, the temperature underground is a constant warmth and there are several homey touches, such as bad embroidery on the walls. Several pots and pans are hung up by the fire and a curtain is pulled across, cutting the room in half and hiding a bed. The quilt covering it is quite naff. In fact the entire room is a mix of necessity and naffness. You can tell that the owner doesn't have enough money to do things up as she would like.

add sound effects   
The loudest sound is the clanging of a spoon against a pot. Muffled mumblings come from the bed behind the curtain and a vague thumping can be heard from beyond the front door and only door.

add cast of characters   
A mostly mud encrusted body is stirring foul green stuff in a pot over the fire. She's now wearing a homely and naff apron. Her hands are immaculately clean and are actually an off-white colour, although it's hard to tell in the light from the fire. What appears to be a mummy is resting in the bed.

run story 

The figure seems satisfied with her stirring and carefully discards the spoon. As she stands to move the pot from the heat, the stench makes its way up her nose. 

"Eugh! Oh my..." *cough*hack*splutter* "I hope this works. It's been a long time since I had to make it." 

The pot is heavy and she sidles behind the curtain with it. The mummy is twisting and moaning underneath the covers. 

"Now then, does this go on the body or in the body?" She shrugs. "Oh well, it's made of natural ingredients so it can't hurt. If this doesn't break the fever nothing will." 

Getting the mummy to eat the concoction is a tough task. In the end several funnels are used and as much of the fluid is spilled on the bandages as goes down the mummy's throat. So, whether it was supposed to be taken internally or externally doesn't matter anymore. The girl cleans up as best she can before unwrapping the bandages around the mummy's head. The Dragon's pretty face is revealed, sweating and grimacing in the midst of a fever. Even deathly ill, he's attractive. She tries speaking to him, hoping for a sign that her ministrations are working, however he shows no sign that he is conscious of anything. 

"Dragon? Dragon? Are you feeling any better?"  
"Mmph. Urkle. road.. castle... Key.... LYKOULEON!" 

He's shouted this many times before. It's the main reason that his mouth's kept bandaged. The girl doesn't have many neighbours, but creatures such as her are a nosy lot and she's sure that visitors are due. 

"Lykouleon. Is that your girlfriend?" 

The dragon continues to mouth nonsense. The girl sighs. 

"Lykouleon's such a pretty name. I bet she's gorgeous. What's your name little dragon? Your name?" 

She listens carefully to him. 

"I don't think you look like a 'Mmph Hargh E', so I'll just go on calling you 'dragon' for now. Okay?" 

The dragon makes no noticeable response. 

"I'll take that as a yes. Now, I'm gonna check your bandages, the bleeding parts, okay? So don't get weird about it." She shakes her head. "You're unconscious, what do you care? I'll try to be professional about it." 

As you might suspect, that's not as easy as it sounds. The girl's not a professional nurse and worries that she's doing it all wrong. Also, the fever's making the dragon sweat and his scent fills the room. The smell has been partly covered by the evil concoction, but she can still detect it. The dragon's skin is smooth, soft and uncomfortably hot. It was a bad idea to bring him back to her place. If she's found out, she doesn't know what her bosses in the All New Nadil-less Nadil's Army will do, but she suspects that it won't be pleasant. If he dies, she has to dump the body undetected, but if he lives, it might be just as bad for her. 

She removes the bandages on the relevant parts of the dragon's body. Legs, arms, chest, mmph! Thank goodness the bleeding's stopped and the wounds are starting to heal. The girl's not sure when a good time to remove the stitches is, so she's going to leave it for as long as possible. The danger is with his fever. She can see the wounds healing, but she's got no idea how to help the fever break. All she can do is change his dressings and retie the bandages. 

The girl is still ministering to the dragon when she hears a gentle knock on the door. Panicked, she ties a few extra bandages around the dragon, cutting off his breathing and carefully pulls the curtain to cover as much of the area beyond as possible. Finally she opens the door to reveal her companion of last night. The beaming creature, now accompanied by a squirming, blanketed bundle held tenderly in her arms, calls out "Thanks Rrowlf. See you", waves at a shadow beyond the door and enters. The girl waves too and cuts off a "Heya, L-" as she closes the door. 

"Hello, finally finished I see."  
"Welcome Douhna, how are you? Ooh is that Ifran?" 

She knows the way to a mother's heart. Her visitor proudly exposes her writhing bundle, revealing a slightly gooey, green-tinged baby shape. The girl makes all the proper noises and gleefully examines the small new-born. 

"Bless, he looks just like his dad, doesn't he?" 

Douhna can barely contain the smile on her face. She dumps the baby into her friend's arms, who's careful to protect her apron from the spreading mucus. She ends up taking it off and settling on the floor to play with Ifran. 

"Since you named him, I thought it was only right to bring him to visit. Rrowlf offered to walk me down. I think he's sweet on you." 

She nudges her companion in the way that all happy women do when they've decided to spread their happiness by turning you into another version of them. The look on her friend's face tells you all you need to know about her feelings for Rrowlf. 

"Oh come on. He's not that bad. He's quite attractive."  
"That's just what he keeps telling you. It's a form of brainwashing."  
"He's a nice enough guy."  
"He's slimy. And not in the slime-covered sense, there's nothing wrong with that." The hasty addition to her sentence seems to have saved her. "You can talk to him cos he's not interested in a woman with children. With me he just hits all the wrong buttons. It's hard to describe exactly."  
"Well, try."  
"He's constantly watching for other, better looking women, even as he's staring at my chest. I get the feeling that he's just sleazing on me as a courtesy, if that sounds right. It's as if he thinks that's how all guys behave towards single women."   
"Fancy trying to change him?"  
"I'd prefer to eat hot coals. He's not interested in me. He probably heard that a new chick moved in nearby and he was hoping to scope her out."

Her companion, still bathing in the 'You invited me to show off the baby I made' glow, bounces over to the kitchen area. She peruses the still-open jars. 

"Sage, Rosemary, Goo #97. Someone got a cold?" Her nose crinkles suddenly and she covers it. "Ewwww. You were boiling up something foul!" She eyes the girl. "Are you planning on giving up being a minion and treading a new path as a crone?" 

The potential crone smiles. 

"Does it pay any better?"  
"I think you get an extra frog every other tuesday. But you have to provide your own rags, have your unique and unusual affliction cleared by the Crones' Council and age at least fifty years."  
"I think I can manage at least two out of those three. Odd stench is my speciality, as you can tell."  
"How do you age fifty years then?"  
"Mmm, there's a lot you can do with mud. I reckon I could add a decade or two by applying it carefully."  
"Muddy Bella might have a word or two to say to you about that. Her gig is a kind of muddy wildwoman thang."  
"Darn it."  
"You have to conceal your voice too, pet. Even with ten decades of mud on you, you still sound like a bright and perky eighteen year old. Crones don't do bright or perky."  
"Darn it squared."

An odd, high-pitched, sucking noise is rapidly making its presence felt from the area behind the curtain. Douhna looks puzzled. 

"What's that noise?"  
"Wind?"

The attempt to deceive her friend fails miserably and Douhna quickly reaches for the curtain. She peeks behind. 

"Honey, who's your friend?"  
"He's err, my cousin."  
"Your cousin?" She peeks around the curtain at the anxious girl. "I thought you didn't have any family."  
"Me, no. No, but, the friend I grew up with, Palma, had a cousin, CousinJon. She always called him CousinJon and as I didn't know any better, I did too. The name's stuck now. That's him there. CousinJon."

Douhna looks sceptically at the figure on the bed. 

"Honey, he doesn't look too good." 

The girl leaps from the floor, Douhna has to drop to catch her falling precious. The curtain is jerked aside to reveal the frantically thrashing mummy, which has turned a vibrant shade of purple, even through the bandages. She tears at the wrappings and finally the sweet taste of oxygen reaches the exposed dragon's lungs. Breathing a sigh of relief, she turns happily to meet her horrified friend's expression. 

"Oh no," said quietly. 

Douhna rises and for a moment, all she can do is point at the now-peaceful figure. 

"That's a dragon. That's a dragon! Is that THE dragon?"  
"Yes." 

Silence fills the room, or empties the room, whichever is appropriate. 

"Honey, what have you done?" 

The look on Douhna's face hasn't altered. It's making her host so uncomfortable. Up to now, she's managed to avoid thinking about all the downsides. Seeing her friend instinctively covering her baby, she realises that what she's done could have massive repercussions beyond her simple future. 

"What're you gonna do?"  
"Just tell me, why?" 

The girl pauses before answering. She sees again in her mind the bleeding pile of rags and realises that ever since that moment she's been acting on instinct. Her only thoughts were to get the dragon away, to safety. Since then, she's been consumed by him and him alone. Well, she did get to see him naked and that was quite impressive. 

"He was hurt. You know what I'm like. Remember the wounded kitten?"  
"The one with rabies?"  
"Yeah, that one. It was just the same, except that he's heavier and not as furry."  
"Or frothing at the mouth."  
"No." 

The immediate shock has worn off. The dragon isn't rising to wreak bloody vengeance and Douhna now has space to think. 

"I'm sorry, I have to tell them."  
"Douhna?"  
"Honey, I have a family. I can't afford to lose my job and yours is definitely gone. I don't know what else'll happen to you, but if I don't, then what'll happen to him?" She holds the mewling, sticky bundle up to the girl's guilty face. 

"Douhna..."  
"Maybe you'll be okay. Everyone knows that dragons have this...charisma. If you get a sympathetic judge, you might get off lightly."  
"Douhna..."  
"It was alright when he was far away and it was all just wishful thinking, but we can't do this. You can't have a dragon in your bedroom!" A small possibility hits her, but the gravity of the situation drives the thought from her almost as soon as it arrives.  
"Douhna, he's hurt."  
"I can't. I'm sorry. I, I can't"  
"Can you wait then?"  
"What?"  
"His wounds are healing, but he's got a fever. It's pointless to bring him here and then have him caught by the Army. It'll have been for nothing then."  
"What are you asking?"  
"Simply that you wait. Wait until the fever breaks, until I let him go, until he's safe." 

Douhna thinks about it for a minute. The face of her friend is pleading with her, not for herself, but for the dragon's life. 

"If even the slightest suspicion falls on me... I don't think I can... How long will it take?" 

The girl stares at the ground before answering. 

"I don't know. I don't understand anything about curing fevers. Maybe a day, maybe a week, maybe two." 

Douhna says nothing. Her faces flickers through many emotions and then hardens as she looks down at her son. 

"It's not just me."  
"I understand."  
"I'm going now, but I'll take my time. You'll be able to move him somewhere else. That's all I can offer."  
"Thank you. Can you help me with him?"  
"I don't think so. No. I'm sorry. Look, afterwards, I'll help however I can. You can't have expected to keep this silent." 

She nods and leads her friend to the door. The funeral silence is unbroken as Douhna flees like a scalded cat. The girl then turns and approaches the dragon. She reaches under the bed and unpacks the carefully stored clothing. Getting an incoherent, fevered dragon dressed is not an easy task. She ties the clothes over his bandages and softly coaxes him to his feet. The dragon responds slightly, so she checks his forehead. It's still covered in sweat, but the fiendish heat of before is replaced by a mere toasty fever. 

"At least you picked the right time to start feeling better." 

She hauls the dragon to his feet and they head toward the door. He manages to grasp the idea of placing one foot in front of the other, but not of balance, so several treasured items are knocked from their perches to smash onto the floor below. Beyond the passage, behind the door, the rain has ceased, but a carpet of mud awaits the two of them. They slip and slide, the girl dropping the dragon on several occasions, until they're a few hours from her home. She collapses against a tree, the dragon gently cradled in her arms. 

"Five minutes, then we move on." 

Her exhausted body has a different plan. When she rises, so does the sun. Worried, the girl climbs the tree and checks for pursuers. 

"No sign. Maybe Douhna changed her mind." 

Suddenly hopeful, she leaps down and turns toward her charge, the groaning dragon, who is now rising to his feet. He is still obviously sick, but has regained some of his marbles. Clearing the hair from his eyes, he looks her way and sees before him a gawky, mud-encrusted figure possessed of a ridiculous grace. 

"Thank you. You saved me." 

The figure says nothing. 

"I'm really grateful. How can I repay you?" 

His answer is silence and a lonely look from the figure. 

"Em, could you say something?"  
"..."  
"Look"  
"..."

He smiles warmly and her heart fills with light. 

"I'm really grateful for what you've done for me. I can't remember all of it, but I know that I wouldn't be here now if it weren't for you."  
"..."

The dragon tries a few more times to elicit some response from the statue and fails. Conscious of the situation he reaches for her hand and takes it, unresisting, in his own. 

"I'm really sorry, but I have a vital task to accomplish that was entrusted to me by my lord. I'd like to stay and talk to you, but I have to return to Draqueen, to the dragon castle." 

He points vainly in a random direction. The silence from the figure makes him very uneasy and uncomfortable. 

"Look, well, I'd better go." 

He trudges off, with occasional looks back at the unmoving figure. It is only when he has gone far beyond vision and his scent has entirely dissipated that the figure speaks, with great clarity. 

"Hello, my name is Lankmar. Who're you?" 

* * *

Woohoo. That's over. Don't worry, everything will lighten up at Chapter 4, the Court Martial! Yay! 


	4. The Court Martial

scene setting   
Obviously underground. The room's walls are made of earth although it's warm and not damp. A long table sits at the top of the room and there are five chairs behind it. A lone chair faces it, dead centre. The room is completed by several benches, forming the gallery. 

add sound effects   
A bit of muttering and the rustling of papers. There's mostly silence. For now.

add cast of characters  
The benches are filled with various multi-formed creatures, they're watching the girl sitting in the lone chair and some of them are eating popcorn. The lone chair is filled by Lankmar (Well it is her trial). She doesn't seem unduly worried by the proceedings as she is still preoccupied by her total failure to talk to the dragon. Now the five chairs at the top of the room. The centre chair is filled by a toad-like creature. He has an air of self importance and his military jacket is covered in shiny bits of metal. These may be medals, they may be bottle tops. The chair on the far left is filled by an old yokai. His bread reaches down to his feet and beyond. He appears to be asleep. Beside him is a female yokai who brought her knitting with her. She's not too happy at having been called up for jury duty, but it looks like this may be one of the interesting cases, so she's starting to perk up. On the far right is Rrowlf. He is humanoid, but his features are vaguely cat like. The final chair is taken by a being shrouded in a long cloak. There's always one.   
run story 

The Toad-Like Creature clears his throat and stands up.

"Right, the next matter before us concerns the accused..." he consults some papers in front of him, "...Lankmar. Lankmar, you are charged with conduct unbecoming a minion in the All New Nadil-less Nadil's army. How do you plead?"  
"The All New Nadil-less Nadil's army?" It seems that Old Bert, the yokai on the far left has woken up."  
"Yes Bert. It's a working title. " The toad seems vaguely uncomfortable, he gestures as he speaks. "I'm sure that when the boss gets back on his feet, it'll go back..."  
"What?" Old Bert interrupts. "In my day decapitation meant that you weren't gonna get back up again. It meant semi-permanent retirement and a definite lack of army leading. We should be in the middle of an election now."  
"An election? We've never had an election before."  
"Sure we have. Before Lord Nadil turned up they were a yearly occurrence. The old boss'd die and then those greedy and stupid enough to want to be in charge started killing each other until only one was left. An election. Whoever survived that was likely to at least last out the year, so they didn't happen continually. Why once, there was even a four year break between elections. That was a golden time." 

Old Bert has a permanent place on the Court Martial Board. It keeps him out of the hair of the army superiors and he's due some respect, thanks to his advanced age. Usually he sleeps through all the trials and the Chairman only wakes him up when there's a tie among the rest of the board. Not that that happens too often. Old Bert's decisions tend to be erratic and he usually feels the need to deliver a sermon when he passes judgement. Since he missed the entire trial, they tend to have no bearing on any of the evidence and often depend on what he was dreaming about when he was woken up. A body of myth has developed around Old Bert and there are numerous superstitions over what will sway his vote.  
Rrowlf on the far right gets to his feet.

"Chairman, if I may. I have a few questions to ask the accused."

The chairman nods and Rrowlf puts his hands behind his back superciliously and approaches Lankmar. 

"Lankmar, what's going on?" He raises his arms to the ceiling. "You're going mad over this dragon guy and yet you don't give me the time of day? That can really hurt a guy's feelings!" 

He peers at her closely and then sits down, disgusted at her taste in men. The Chairman, slightly disconcerted, motions Lankmar to answer. 

"Well, ahem. You've never shown an interest before. I didn't think you were interested."  
"I'd've gotten around to you eventually. You're on my list baby. Hey, how about after this we go and get something to eat, just the two of us."

Lankmar looks at the chairman. 

"Is that alright?" 

The chairman nods. "Of course, why wouldn't it be? He's a single guy, you're a single girl. Neither of you are hideously unattractive and this trial thing won't take long. Go for it." 

Lankmar nods firmly. "Okay then Rrowlf, as long as it's not someplace seedy." 

Rrowlf smiles. "Sure thing babe. Sure thing. I can do class. And afterward we can go back to my place and watch the swamp rise."  
"Um, not on a first date Rrowlf."  
"Okay then, for the record," the chairman speaks to a little creature I hadn't mentioned before. He's sitting on a stool in the corner and scribbling busily into a notebook. "Lankmar agreed to go out with Rrowlf on one date, but she won't go back to his place after." The chairman looks at Rrowlf. "You live on the swamp?"  
"I got a nice little flat above the mire. It's home."  
"I'm impressed. I wanna move out there some day. Keep an eye out for any empty hollows eh?"  
"Sure thing Mister Chairman". Rrowlf does that annoying thing where he pretends to shoot the chairman with his fingers. He's so stuck in the eighties.

The chairman looks left and right down the table. 

"Does anyone else want to speak?" 

The female yokai beside him, pauses her knitting and looks at Lankmar from above her half moon glasses. "I have a few questions Toad." 

The Toad motions toward her. 

"Teedie has the floor."  
"Right." She places her knitting down on the table in front of her. "I've never met a dragon, are they really as hot as they say?"  
Lankmar blushes. "Oh, yes. They are quite attractive, at least the one I saw was. I couldn't imagine a whole castle full of guys as hot as him."  
Teedie pushes herself forward. "And you were...nursing him back to health?"  
Lankmar nods.  
"So did you see his, um, you know?"  
"TEEDIE!" Rrowlf jumps to his feet and stares at the knitter in shock. Unfazed, she merely looks at him until he sits down again.  
"I DO have the floor. Well girl, speak up."  
Lankmar splutters a bit before answering. Her voice is so quiet that no-one can hear a word. The creature on the stool scribbles something down. Toad looks at him. "Notary? What was it that you wrote down? I couldn't hear a blasted word." 

The creature blinks and reads back his notes. "Teedie asks the accused if she saw his, um, you know. Rrowlf yelled out "TEEDIE!" and stood up. Teedie stated that she had the floor and asked Lankmar to speak up. Lankmar answered that she had to minister to his wounds and that as far as she could tell, after extensive analysis, his, um, you know was not damaged in any way." 

The court room fills with silence. It's finally broken by Teedie. 

"Is that a yes or a no?" 

Lankmar's blush spreads until it covers her entire body. 

"Yes or no?" 

She stares at the ground beside her foot with great interest. 

"Yes. Or. No?" 

Meekly she nods. The court breathes again. The gallery starts talking, the popcorn is long finished, but one poor guy who'd gone out for a refill is desperately trying to find out what he missed. The court hushes again as Teedie opens her mouth for her next question. 

"Did you touch it?" 

Uproar fills the court. No-one can believe that she actually asked that question. A few other knitting wielding old biddies nod sagely as if that's what they'd ask if they were up there. Some higher class ladies can't believe that such a common creature would dare do such a thing, although privately they admit that they'd do the same. Several wide boys are jealous of Rrowlf's date with Lankmar and are bribing the officials to find out her address. Everyone assumes that they already know the answer, although, of course, according to the rules of the court, the accused must answer any question put to her. 

Lankmar's blush, by this stage is a bright red aura that extends several feet beyond her body. 

"It was an accident." 

Teedie sits back with a satisfied smile on her face. She picks up her knitting and makes several mistakes with it before she finally gets the knack again. The gallery cheer and yell as she does so. Two youngish yokai at the back are holding up hastily-made signs. One reads **Go Lankmar**, the other, **Teedie for Boss**. Both are noisily ejected from the courtroom and placed on the list for the days hearings. 

Toad eyes Teedie. 

"Any more questions Teedie?" 

"No Toad, although I do have a comment. It's obviously a bad idea to use female creatures to spy on male dragons. I recommend further study on the matter and volunteer to watch as many dragons as the Army sees fit." 

Several among the crowd also volunteer. They are also ejected, one by one, until the volunteering stops. The empty seats are quickly filled by observers from the reserve list waiting outside. The Toad looks at his fellow Board Members. To his right Old Bert appears to be falling asleep again and Teedie is smugly knitting away, her mind on other things. On his other side Rrowlf has his arms folded and appears to be quite upset. He is refusing to look at Lankmar, but she hasn't noticed yet that he's pointedly ignoring her. This is upsetting him even more. The Hooded Yokai is inscrutable. 

"Hooded Yokai, is there anything that you want to add to the proceedings?" 

A voice emerges from the hood. 

_ "I was told there would be pie."_

The Toad pauses for a moment. It's hard to gauge the intentions of people if you can't see their faces. 

"There will be pie. Once we've passed judgement on Lankmar here," he indicates the girl. The Hooded Yokai inclines his head and says nothing further. "Does anyone on the board have any further questions to put to the accused?" 

"Toad." Old Bert speaks again. "What are the facts of the case?"  
"Ah yes," says Toad. He readjusts his jacket in the Picard manoeuvre. "I should have stated them at the start of the Trial, but here can't hurt." He rustles through the papers in front of him and pulls out a grubby sheet. "The facts of the case are that Lankmar here, a minion in the All New Nadil-less Nadil's army, was assigned in the second period of the eighth day of this month to observe and observe only, a suspected dragon incursion into yokai lands. Said suspected dragon was reported as an actual dragon by Douhna, another minion, almost immediately. The yokai in the castle in that area were warned and they prepared an ambush for the dragon's arrival. According to the accounts of those who examined the castle on the tenth day in accordance with direction 66542-X, nearly all the yokai in the castle were destroyed. Hunters are currently working on re-enacting the scene and working out exactly what happened. The dragon was then discovered in the home of the accused, apparently being cared for by Lankmar herself. The dragon unfortunately escaped before a team from the Army arrived, but enough evidence was found of his stay to allow this Court-martial to take place."  
"So it's another case of dragon infatuation?"  
"That appears to be it."

Old Bert sighs. "I thought we'd gotten rid of that six years ago. I guess it can't be helped. Go on Toad." He waves his hands at the chairman. "Let's get to the next part." 

Toad clears his throat. "Does any member of the board have final questions to put to the accused, Lankmar, before sentencing?" The board remains silent. "Are there any Honoured Members in the gallery with questions or comments?" The gallery's Honoured Members remain anonymous. "I now call upon the members of the board to reveal their verdicts." 

Rrowlf stands. He glares at Lankmar. "Guilty."  
"Rrowlf?" Lankmar's a little unnerved at his verdict. "You do realise that if I'm found guilty then I won't be able to go on our date."  
"Oh." The conflict plays itself out on Rrowlf's face, hurt feelings fighting his libido. The eighties man makes the only choice available. "Not Guilty." The scribe dutifully writes this down. 

The Hooded Yokai stands. _"Guilty."_

Teedie stands. "Not guilty." She looks down at Lankmar. "Us girls have to stick together and you couldn't help what was happening. It was wossname, hormones." 

Old Bert then attempts to get to his feet, however he swiftly falls back down as his beard is now entangled in Teedie's knitting. 

"Ah," says Teedie. "I thought the texture was different. Hang on a second and I'll cut you out."  
"Cut me out? No stop, how dare you?" He struggles with Teedie as she tries to pull a small scissors from her handbag. "This beard has been in my family for almost as long as I have. It's taken years to grow, you can't just cut if off, undo your knitting."  
"Undo my knitting?" This is almost as big a blow to Teedie as the suggestion of beard-loss to Old Bert. "Do you know how many rows I got done? No, I might drop stitches!"  
"Your stitches are nothing compared to my beard! Let go! Unpick those stitches!"

The struggle between the two is even until Teedie clouts Old Bert in the back of the head with her handbag. Luckily Bert's beard is saved by Toad who points out that setting convicts the punishment of doing her knitting is permitted by Rule of the Court, Directive 496652 - K and that a Mrs. G. Unistice, a noted member of the local knitting circle, is next on the list. 

Old Bert finally stands for his verdict. "Guilty," he sighs. "We can't have dragon infatuation spreading again. What if someone tries to resurrect the Dragon Fan Club? No. Guilty, guilty, guilty." 

Toad stands. "It is unusual for me to give the final verdict in a tied case, but I guess that today, the burden rests with me. Lankmar, you were indeed a victim of dragon infatuation and cannot be held accountable for your actions. However, other yokai need to be protected from your sickness. The law is quite clear and dragon infatuation is a crime. The DFC must never rise again. I find you guilty of conduct unbecoming a minion in the All New Nadil-less Nadil's Army and sentence you to the maximum punishment possible under our laws. You are hereby expelled from the All New Nadil-less Nadil's Army and cast out from yokai lands...Forever." 


	5. Exile

scene setting  
A lovely outdoorsy farmlandy area. There's a dusty road to follow and a lonely farmstead within eyeshot. There's no rain, the sun is shining and all is very different to the last 3 scenes.  
add sound effects  
Cows are mooing, squirrels squirreling and various other animals making various other animal noises. We can also hear the faint pfft pfft pfft of feet striking up dust on the road.   
add cast of characters  
Said cast of animals, a farmwife at the farmstead farming, well gardening actually. She's hoeing her herbs and shooing away the cat who thinks that the hoe is his own personal toy. Lastly, Lankmar is mooching down the road. She's kinda dejected and scared looking, there's been no rain since she left yokai lands, so her mud's dried and is starting to flake off. She does not belong in this area and nothing is familiar.  
run story

Lankmar continues down the road. She's followed it since she first stumbled across it, after leaving yokai lands. This is the first time she's come near human civilisation and she's not quite sure what to expect, yet she certainly can't go back. After all, she has to make her way in human lands if she expects to survive on her own. She thought of trying it on her own out in the wilderness, but it's hard to get away from yokai, they live in all the most inconvenient areas and finding your own food and building a home is hard. At least here, if all doesn't go well, she can easily run off to more lonely lands.

The solitary farmwife looks up for a moment from her hoeing and eyes the dusty figure slowly approaching her. Lankmar looks exhausted, traumatised and not her best. When Lankmar notices that she's been spotted, she slows down uncertainly.

"Hello dearie. How're you?"

"This is a human? They don't seem too bad," she mutters. "She reminds me of Douhna a little. Still, humans aren't as scary as dragons. I guess I should say hello." She speaks more loudly and waves at the figure, "h-hello!"

The housewife gestures for her to come closer, as she does so, the housewife notices the dusty, naked state of the stranger.

"Goodness, whatever happened to you my dear?"

Lankmar's reaction is to panic and eye the hills uneasily, worried that the human will realise her ex-minion status. "I knew I should have grabbed some clothes before I left. Douhna would have helped me out, or Palma, we're about the same size. I could've gone past her area on my way out of yokai lands. I'm sure the Army wouldn't have minded that, they're not monsters."

The human hurries down to Lankmar and reaches out kindly to her. "You poor girl, not to worry, everything will be all right."

Lankmar blinks as that was unexpected. The human grabs her arm and when no resistance is offered, she leads Lankmar up to her house, prattling all the way. The human, as most humans do, has obviously grabbed completely the wrong end of the stick. Lankmar decides to wait and see which stick has been picked up and lets herself be gently settled into the kitchen where she's introduced to Anthaya and where a good hearty meal is cooked to fatten her up.

"I'll just heat up the water out back and you can clean up. It should be ready about an hour after you've finished dinner."  
"Thank you, that's very kind."  
"Not at all my dear, not at all."  
"I don't mind cold water if I'm putting you out."  
"Oh no dear." Anthaya pauses her cooking and looks at Lankmar. "It's uh, the least I can do for you. Hold on."

Anthaya slips out the back and Lankmar is left, uncomfortably perching on the kitchen stool while she waits for her to return. The cat makes an appearance before the human does. Lankmar's not quite sure what to make of him.

"Hello there, do you live here too?" When the cat doesn't answer, she assumes that it's a non-sentient life-form and places it in the food basket. The cat, hearing Lankmar speak, is also confused. She smells like one of his favourite toys and is a bit of puzzle as that doesn't usually speak. He places her in the box that's a cross between human provider and shiny new toy and jumps onto her lap for a bit of a pet. When Lankmar freezes and doesn't realise the duty that's been appointed to her, he settles for pawing at the twigs sticking from the crumbling mud.

Anthaya returns and cackles as she sees the cat pawing the horrified girl.   
"Just push him off if he's bothering you. That young Tom's a terrible cat, he spends all his time playing and not enough hunting rats. I guess he's still a bit young. His mam was a champion rat-catcher, but it doesn't seem to have rubbed off on him." She sighs, "still, he's company when my man's away."  
"Your man?"  
Anythaya leans over and pets the errant Tom. "Yeah, Mr. Cashell is a skilled carpenter. He gets a bit of work at the next few towns on occasion, so he's away for a fair bit at a time." She returns to the bubbling pots and Lankmar risks her hand on the cat's fur. It goes well, he purrs and she continues the experiment. 

"So it's just you and Mr. Cashell out here then?"  
Anthaya stirs away. "Yep, most times. It's very rare to see travellers out this far. Most anyone who comes by, comes to see us."  
"Isn't it lonely for you?"  
"Goodness girl, if I get lonely, I can head up and walk the few miles to the neighbours. I like it here. It's pretty and if I get crotchety in my old age, we can always move to a village." She pauses, studying the trail of bubbles in the pot. "It's funny though. It's rare for us to get visitors, as I said and yet here you are, not even a fortnight since the last one went past."  
"Another traveller?"  
"Yeah, he was moving fast, didn't stop for a chat, like most do. Out here, I must've been the last person he'd since in weeks. Unless you count yokai." She snorts, as if to suggest that no-one should. Lankmar buries her head and pets away. "Still, then you come and I get my chat after all."  
"Well..."  
"Don't worry dear. I won't ask anything yet. You just sit there and get comfortable. I'm not letting you go until you look a damn sight better."

The human has obviously picked up a stick with a very interesting backstory to it. Lankmar's curious, but doesn't want to prejudice her when everything seems to be going so well. The cat's purr is warm and soft and Lankmar feels happy for the first time since she went to live on her own. The human life doesn't seem so daunting and the places they choose to live in are so much nicer than swamps and underground holes, although they do have their good points too. Swamps are easy things to hide in and building your home underground saves on heating. It's also the natural order of things too, of course. If people were meant to live in nice, big, clean, sunny, on-ground, several story houses, surely they already would be?

Cats are nice though, maybe they could be added to the natural order. I wonder how they'd take to swamps?

Anthaya continues to chat away as she prepares the food. She sticks to neutral topics, which means that she eventually and inevitably starts to dish the gossip on her nearest neighbours. Since everyone here is so isolated you can't imagine that there'd be that much gossip known about the locals, and you would be so wrong. Lankmar wonders if there are paid minions spying on everyone and reporting to the gossip queens for dissemination of their tidbits. If so, there's an opportunity for her to gain work, fairly quickly out of the blocks. 

"I'm not sure what I'm going to do." 

"Hush dear, wait until after you've gotten a full meal into you. Everything's a little better when you're well fed. Even a little has got to be something, right?" She reaches over and gives Lankmar a quick hug before returning to her pots. "Won't be long now."

Lankmar savours the hug. "This is a good sign," she whispers to the cat. It's the small things that give you hope.

The kitchen becomes quiet, as Anthaya concentrates on the food. The only sounds are the rattling of the pots, the bubbling of the liquid inside, muttered gasps as Anthaya burns herself and the purring of the cat. Lankmar learns a lot about this new soft animal as she waits, including how sharp its claws are. Eventually, Anthaya deems the meal ready and starts to unload it onto some plates. Lankmar's offers of help are politely refused and soon she's tucking into the best meal she's ever eaten. Bits of mud and dirt fall in occasionally, but that just makes it taste home cooked. Anthaya watches the girl as she eats, happy that she's lost herself in the food and glad to notice her mood calming.

"Did you enjoy that Lankmar?"  
"Mmph, yeah." Her mouth's still full of food, but with the help of careful gesturing and exaggerated pronunciation, she manages to get the point across.  
Anthaya laughs. "It's alright, I'll wait until you've completely finished." She tidies up and by the time she gets to Lankmar's plate, Lankmar is unable to stuff even one forkful more into her mouth. Anthaya settles herself across the table and looks into her eyes. She then reaches out and holds her arm.

"I hope you'll be able to put it all behind you. I know its hard, but not every man's like that. There're good ones too. Take my Mr. Cashell, he's an angel. They probably weren't...local men, you do understand that?"

She's looking so earnestly at Lankmar that she simply nods out of reflex, unsure still as to what Anthaya's getting at.

"Good. What they did was wrong and hurt you in the most personal way possible, but only a small number of people are like that, most are kind like me, and most will support you, like me. Everyone that lives nearby will like you as much as I do, even shirty old Willis and you'll never be hurt that way again. Do you understand?"

Lankmar shakes her head. She doesn't know the right words to use.  
"Hurt?"  
Anythaya indicates Lankmar, clearly uncomfortable. "You know. The. You know. Um. What happened." Then she whispers, "to you. To your clothes. The bad men in the forest."

The only bad man Lankmar ever met was Rrowlf and he was more sad and sleazy. There was Shydeman, but she didn't really meet him. A blur in front of a crowd does not count.

Anthaya's also a bit unsettled. Lankmar's a bit too chirpy for a naked, dirt-covered, abused young girl. _Obviously she must still be in shock and unable to speak about it. I'll have to warn everyone before they meet her,_ she thinks to herself. _Still that's a nice bit of gossip to...Oh my._ She's disgusted with herself for reducing her new friend's trauma to such a trivial thing, even for a moment. To cover she stands up and makes herself busy.

"That's okay, that's allright. I tell you what, I'll go and get you some new clothes to replace what you lost."

She runs upstairs leaving the poor girl slightly confused, but happy at least that she's getting some clothes and will be able to fit in. When she reappears, she's holding an enormous fluffy towel and a bit of white cotton. Lankmar reaches for them, but Anthaya keeps them from her.

"Let's wait until after your bath eh?"  
_What's a bath? Is this something to do with the water she was heating up?_

Anthaya takes the girl outside where a large tin bath is waiting. There's also a large metal construction with several pipes, levers and gauges. Crackling noises can be heard coming from beneath and bubbling noises from the middle. She drops the towel and clothing on a small stool and produces two buckets. One of these she hands to Lankmar and points her in the direction of the well with instructions to fill up and return. Anthaya herself turns to the monstrosity and twists a lever. Steaming water erupts from a nearby pipe and is skilfully caught in the bucket. She waits for Lankmar to return and empty her bucket into the bath before adding the first bucket of hot water to the tin bath. 

"What is that?" Lankmar points to the metal construction.  
"It's our boiler. Mr. Cashell built it, he's very good." She notices the blank look on the girl's face and continues. "It heats water for the house. I'm not surprised you haven't seen one, they're bloody dangerous." She points toward the twisted remains of a similar contraption, now sorry and rusted. "The first three blew up, but he reckons he got it right now. I sure hope so. The chickens wouldn't lay eggs for a week after the last one went and the cow's milk tasted funny too."

Buckets of hot and cold water are added to the bath until it's half full and a pleasing temperature. Lankmar then cautiously gets in and watches the water rise to cover her. _I've never seen this much clean water before and now I'm going to make it all dirty again. It's nothing like the swamp baths we used to have back home._ A brief feeling of homesickness washes over her and she tries to bite it back. Anthaya enthusiastically helps her wash off eighteen years of accumulated dirt and grime. The water in the tub swiftly turns to a filthy black and has to be refilled with cold water to rinse Lankmar off, but every stray mark is removed, every crevice cleaned out and even her hair is returned to a lovely shine and its natural colour revealed. It's green. Along with her skin.

"Guess there was a small dye in that mud. Don't worry, I'm sure it'll wear off over time." Anthaya's not phased by the vaguely greenish tint to Lankmar's skin, so she decides not to worry either. Instead she tries on the cotton dress provided by Anthaya. The dress is constricting and feels weird, but an eighteen year old can't get away with rolling in mud the same way a five year old can. _Guess it's all just a part of growing up. I'll get used to it._

By the time Lankmar's cleaned up, for the first time since birth, it's pretty late. She gratefully accepts Anthaya's offer of a bed for the night. The following day is pretty hectic, the cow gets sick and needs special care, Lankmar helps out as much as she can. By the end of the week she's a pretty crap farmer, but Anthaya lies and says she's great. 

A mini party is then thrown, as the neighbours get wind of the new face and come round to say hi. Lankmar's never been the focus of this much attention and finds it very uncomfortable. She finally gets a quiet moment when the guests get so drunk that they've no idea who they're talking to and she heads up to her room to enjoy the empty space. The sounds of merriment follow her up as does the cat. He plants himself on the end of her bed and starts his purr when he's ready for her stroking. 

"I won't be able to stay here Tom. Once they realise that nothing happened in the forest, at least nothing that they expect, they'll ask what really happened. Then they'll find out that I'm a disgraced member of the All New Nadil-less Nadil's Army and they'll chase me away. They may even kill me! I have to leave. Don't know where I'll go though. I don't know the area or where the best place for a girl to make her fortune is."  
"Leaving?" Anthaya has snuck up behind Lankmar while she was talking to the cat. She's distressed over the girl's words and Lankmar wonders how much of her little talk she heard.  
"Yes. Everyone's been very kind but I need to move on. It's still too close here..." _to the yokai lands I've been kicked out of._   
"Of course. I understand. You wouldn't feel comfortable, even here." She looks at Lankmar who feels really bad for deceiving her. "I'll miss you so much. It was nice to have company here after all. I was hoping that you'd stay and give me someone to cook for."  
_I wish I could tell you everything, the true story of my life, what it's like to live among the yokai that scare you so much. You're the first friend I've found out here and even though I love you, I know that you couldn't accept that. I'll always have your friendship if I leave here and once I go somewhere else, I can make a new past for myself, using what I've learned here to do that. Using what I've learned from you. I will survive because of you. But I can't stay. _  
"I can't stay."  
Anthaya sighs, the argument long lost. "Where will you go?"  
"Well, where's the best place for a girl of few talents to make a life for herself?"  
"Here."  
"And apart from that?"  
Anthaya sighs again. She sits herself on the edge of the bed and drums her heels against its side. Finally she looks at Lankmar and smiles. "Well, I don't know, what are you looking for in a home?"  
"Somewhere big, where I can hide."  
"And the people?"  
"Kind and accepting of strangers."  
"Kind and big don't really go together. What else?"  
"Somewhere pretty," she laughs, "with lots of really attractive guys, who are all naturally sensitive and caring."  
"Of course."  
"Where it rains, but not **all** the time."  
"Where you can live happily?"  
"Yes."  
"By the sea?"  
"Not really bothered. Never seen it."  
"Somewhere safe?"  
Lankmar freezes. "Yes."  
"There is one place."  
She turns to stare at the farmer. "There is?"  
Anthaya nods. "It's pretty far away, but your perfect town does exist."  
"Where is it?"  
Anthaya points along the faithful road that lead Lankmar to her. "Yonder. That road'll take you to a town and maybe you could get a merchant travelling from there."  
"What's it called?"  
"Draqueen."  
"**The Dragon Capital?**"_ The one place that yokai don't plague? The one place where their enemies are all gathered? The one spot on the continent where my kind should not be and cannot stay?_ "Perfect."

* * *

Sidenote:  
The DFC is only open to yokai, as it is a subversive organisation and entry rules are tight, but if you wear a funny hat you should get away with it.

  
I suppose I might as well have a chat here, since everything beyond this point is a bit vague at the moment. This is the first fanfiction I ever wrote. It's also the first story I've written since I was in fourth year of secondary school. So why did I write it? Well, I was searching for Dragon Knights anime information when I found the fanfiction.net site. I guess there is no anime, but I did discover what yaoi was and I got the itch to write my own story and put it up on the site. 

I started with a blank page and no idea what I was going to write, so as an aid I typed in the scene setting thing and typed out the bones of a stereotypical setting to get an idea. Pretty soon I'd gotten into the story. When I'd finished, it seemed to fit, even though it was originally only a tool to start the story. I still use it, well, as it's part of the idiom now, but I also find it very helpful indeed.

The original first chapter was mostly like chapter one, but longer. Dragon got into trouble, girl saved his life, clamed up like a fish and was left banging her head against a tree when he left. Just like chapter one except that it stunk. The whole dragon in danger thing was badly thought out and needed a **lot** of work. But I wanted to put something up quickly, so I chopped it up and put up the bits that were still good.

I liked the bit that is now chapter one and the ending, which didn't fit there, but was reused for chapter 3. That's why she's not referred to by name until that point. In its first draft she was named at the start of chapter 3, but I changed it all around to see if the original feel of that ending would work. When I asked my proof reader, he hadn't even noticed the change. Maybe that means that he's not a very good proof reader, but it meant that I got to keep one of my favourite bits of writing. Re-edited slightly, for the new chapter of course.

Then I was stuck. Every time I tried to write chapter 2, a filler to get to the Court-Martial which is still titled on my computer as chapter 3, the story would get stuck. If I'd still been able to radically alter what is now chapter one, I'd've been okay, but I regarded it as sacrosanct now that it was actually published. Instead, I restarted chapter 2 completely about 4 times. I was going to introduce Rrowlf, but didn't want to rewrite chapter 1. I had her talk to herself, a lot as the Dragon got ever closer, but that didn't work as the idiot noticed her and tried to talk to her. I wrote some good stuff, but ended up in a sticky place. The story's never gone where I expected it, mostly cos I start with a blank mind, but still, I was doing really well and thinking that I'd cracked it, until that idiot dragon started to talk to her. How do you solve that problem? I finally used an idea I had earlier discarded of letting the Dragon enter the castle and picking the story up after he'd slaughtered most of its inhabitants. Surprisingly, it worked and I managed to finish the chapter. Unfortunately, I still wasn't ready for the court martial, which I was really looking forward to (and had already started) and had another chapter to do. I like those chapters, but I don't think that they're as good as the first one, slightly creaky though it is and the Court Martial.

The way the story's set, it'll be going from static scene to scene and I don't know if that'll still read well after a few more chapters. Still, I thought I couldn't do dialogue and I think the first chapter worked out well and it's got practically nothing but dialogue in it. I'm learning as I go. Maybe I'll get a little action into it later on.

Phew, sorry about that. I stuck this bit at the end so that you don't have to read through it every time you go through the story, if you do so more than once, but that's what's been in my head as I've written this story. I don't know if my vague maybe plot will survive to the end, but I won't write any more of these until I have something interesting to say.

As a matter of interest though. Originally the dragon was nearly drowned (bad writing on my part), then I'd decided that he was going to be almost struck by lightning. He ended up being beaten to a bloody pulp, I'm not sure which he would've liked the most. 

Oh and I like rain. I don't think the story's **that** depressing. 


	6. Enter the Realm of the DFC

scene setting  
A rambunctious inn cluttered with tables and chairs, there barely appears to be enough room to fit in any people. There's one clear area, which could be used as either a stage or a dance floor, or maybe the table and chairs were broken in a brawl and haven't been replaced yet. The bar is the only spacious thing in the place. It's well stocked and has a long counter that reaches across a significant portion of the wall. Two could staff it comfortably, three uncomfortably. The sublime stench of home-cooking wafts through a tiny door near the bar. The barmaids must have to bend to squeeze through it. Another door leads to the upstairs rooms.   
add sound effects  
The sound of merriment fills the air, along with the clinking of glasses and the sounds of chairs being scraped along the floor. The noise is deafening at first, but soon after entering your eardrums collapse and will never be the same again. However, this does make the noise tolerable, so it's a fair trade-off. The door to the kitchen swings open every so often with a squeak, as a waitress makes it through with another plate of food.  
add cast of characters  
The bar is stuffed to the gills with denizens of all sorts. Barmaids and barmen make their way through the crowd of sweaty mercenaries and drunken locals. Humans mingle with shadowy figures bent at odd angles that surely wouldn't be yokai. Not here? Lankmar is standing in the doorway with an impossible light in her eyes. _Here be dragons! _There are just a few, young, wide-eyed, irresponsible, door-watching dragons, in cute uniforms. A bulky human with dark hair and a wide-brimmed hat is watching Lankmar from a dark corner. He's noteworthy only as there's no glass, tankard or plate of food in front of him.   
run story

A harassed waitress scurries up to Lankmar.  
"What can I get you?"  
"Oh." Lankmar looks confused for a moment, before she remembers why she entered the place. "The innkeeper please."  
"What?" The girl looks stunned until Lankmar explains.  
"I was told that an inn was a good place to look for a job. I'm new in town so..."  
"Right." She looks bored while she scans the crowd. "Wait here." She disappears into the seething mass, leaving Lankmar standing awkwardly near the door. A lot of time passes so Lankmar watches the crowd as she waits. Actually, she just eyeballs the dragons. They are very attractive, but they all seem so young and not as impressive as _her_ dragon. They're kinda weedy too, but after several weeks of a dragon-free existence, they're a minor balm to her troubled consciousness. Lankmar's spent the past month making here way here, to Draqueen. The name still feels magic to her. She's worked as she travelled, earning enough for a night or two in a comfortable inn. She's now skilled at waitressing, labouring and cow-poking, though she still prefers minioning. 

"Miss?"  
A large, heavy-set man dressed in short sleeves and with an apron covering his stained brown trousers addresses her. His red face tells her that he's the innkeeper.  
"Are you the innkeeper sir?"  
"Yes. Mmm." He looks her up and down while he thinks. "You looking for a job?"  
"Yes sir. I'd love to work here sir. I've tried my hand at a few different inns as I travelled, and I've learned the basics and I work really hard..."  
He raises his hand to cut her off mid-flow and finishes chewing on something before he speaks. "I have a full staff here, but one or two of the other bars in town might have something for you. 'The Dog and Duck' is a good place to start. I heard that one of Harry's girls is leaving, so you may find a job there."  
"Thank you sir. I'll try 'The Dog and Duck' then. Thank you for your time." Lankmar bows.  
"No worries. Just turn right as you leave and follow the road until you hit the blue building. That road leads to the square and it's just off that."  
"Thank you again sir."  
"Mmph" The innkeeper turns and returns to the bustle of the inn. He is swiftly swallowed by the crowd.  
_'The Dog and Duck'. I don't think I've tried there yet._ She pouts briefly. _I hope they have a dragon clientele too._ Taking one final look at the revellers and their cute iddle uniforms, she turns to go. A heavy hand on her shoulder stops her.  
"Now then Miss, don't go yet." 

A whiskey-sodden voice caresses her ears and the pressure on her shoulder pulls her back. She turns again to find herself in the embrace of the bulky human with the wide-brimmed hat. He opens his mouth wide in an unconvincing smile before speaking again.  
"Lankmar, I'm sure that you don't want everyone here, including those _dragons_ finding out what you really are eh? Why don't you come with me, somewhere that we can talk? Eh?"  
She gulps nervously, looking up at him through wide, fear-filled eyes. "Are you _like me_ then?"  
He smiles. "Not here, eh? But you didn't think you'd be the only one in Draqueeen did you?"

Lankmar allows herself to be steered through the crowd, the hand on her shoulder acting as a clamp. The grip is too strong to be broken and it pushes her towards the upstairs rooms. He orders Lankmar to open the door and follows her through. A creaky stairs heads upwards, but the man ignores it, to open a half door at the side, similar to the kitchen door that torments the barstaff. He grunts at Lankmar and she crawls under. The only light illuminating this area comes from the tiny door behind her, so she nearly falls down the stairs that she finds herself on. Only the solid grip of the large human keeps her on her feet. She has no idea how he managed to fit through the door, but he is even now closing it and excluding the light, until they're left in total darkness.

A vague muttering can be heard from the man behind her, and the hand is briefly lifted from her shoulder. She reaches out to feel the walls on either side, but before she can make her way further down, a bright flash fills the space. The hand returns to her shoulder and a lit candle is held over her head as she is once more pushed onwards by the man. The pair travel slowly down the stairs towards the normal-sized door at the bottom, which opens as they approach. A figure emerges from it and starts up the stairs. The door closes softly behind it. Lankmar can't quite make out any features on this figure, due to the angle she's at, all she can see is a funny hat, and a flag that's held aloft. The figure pauses below them and as Lankmar squeezes past, she can make out the letters 'DFC' stitched onto the flag. There is much muttering and grumbling as her human companion tries to join her, the newcomer is asking him to "suck it in, suck it in" and offering tips on a diet. For a while she imagines that the two of them will be wedged there forever, with Lankmar waiting for the death-grip of the man to release itself. Eventually, the massive bulk of the man joins her at the bottom of the stairs and strikes hard on the wood.  
A hatch slides across, revealing chicken wire, which obscures everything beyond.  
"Password?"   
The voice is cold and metallic, quite a lot like the majority of yokai speaking tones. It's the first skill taught to all potential officers in the All-New Nadil-less Nadil's army and Lankmar's knees start to buckle. She's been on the receiving end of those harsh tones too many times. The whiskey-soaked voice behind her responds.  
"All hail Lykouleon, Lord of Draqueen."

The hatch slides shut and silence fills the stairway. 

_What's going on? Yokai don't understand sarcasm. Something bad is going to happen, the door's not opening. I hope they don't kill me when they attack him._

A harsh, metal thud echoes through the stairwell, followed closely by a second. Lankmar flinches, while her companion seems not to have noticed. _That must be the mechanism for whatever's going to happen._ She looks up. _I wonder if it's going to be boiling oil dropped from above, or maybe a falling slab of rock, or carnivorous beetles. Euck._ The man notices her shivers and strengthens his grip in case she tries to flee. Unfortunately, his fingers are directly over a pressure point and he's cut off blood to her brain. As well as being in excruciating pain, Lankmar now only has 6 seconds to live. 

5.

4.

3.

2.

A chink of light appears in front of them. The light is far stronger than the simple candle held aloft by the human and Lankmar's eyes start to water. The pressure on her shoulder eases slightly and her blood flows normally again. The chink expands, rendering the doorway in solid black, while illuminating all beyond her, when she turns her head. The contrast between the light streaming through the entrance and the dark obscurity of the frame beside it freaks her out. The light forms a barrier almost as tangible as the door that previously barred their way. A small shove nearly knocks her over, but she steps hesitantly forward, flinching as she passes over the threshold, surprised that it was as easy to cross as moving through air. 

As her eyes adjust to the brightness, she feels her companion move past her and hears him call out to someone within the room. Slowly her sight returns and she checks out her surroundings. The room is insanely bright. Multiple candles hang from sconses on the walls and ceilings and several stalagmites are growing from the candlewax that's dripped to the floor. They illuminate the many drawings plastering the walls, which consist of sketches of varying quality of dragons. Dragons at play, dragons fighting, and even a few, obviously anatomically incorrect pictures of dragons, ahem, enjoying a leisure activity. A large easel takes up the centre of the room, a desk at the side holds writing materials and large, full bookshelves take up the space by the door. Two comfy sofas and a noticeboard complete the room.

A wizened yokai briefly raises a hand from his position by the desk. His head is buried in several large books from which loose sheets of paper drip onto the floor. He looks just like your average, wizened yokai, except that most yokai wear drab, pale colours, the better to blend into the background. This yokai is wearing bright reds and yellows. A bright red knitted hat covers his head, with two uneven protrusions protecting his ears. A bobble bounces back and forth as he writes in the book. Plastered over everything are the letters DFC. DFC on the hat, DFC on his shirt, DFC on his trousers, DFC on his scarves, all three of them. 

Lankmar turns and sees a female yokai closing the door. She appears to be a little younger than Lankmar herself, but she gets her taste in clothes from her room-mate. The only difference between the two is that her clothes are bright green and purple, with a splash of orange. Badges and embroidery also cover every available surface. She notices Lankmar and a huge smile spreads across her face, like the sun breaking from the clouds.

"So it is you. You are here. We thought that you'd make it. It's so good to finally meet you. New members are so rare. Well, it's kind of hard to recruit nowadays." The yokai's eyes start to glaze over as she wanders off topic, nethertheless she grabs Lankmar's hand and pumps it vigorously. Realising that she has to refocus the conversation, Lankmar interrupts.  
"So you are?"  
"Oh?" Being distracted from her ramble stuns the yokai momentarily, but she soon answers. "I'm Ardle, proud base-member of the Dragon Fan Club." She pokes Lankmar in the chest. "You'll be wanting your welcome pack." 

She turns and examines the bookcases before pulling out books, to reveal other books behind them. Also hidden behind books are tightly bound scrolls, cuddly toys, stale, forgotten lunches and several brown packages. The girl pulls out one of them and hands it to Lankmar.  
"That belongs to Minmosa, but we haven't seen him in a few months, so we reckon he's been found out by the other side."  
"The other side?"  
"You know." Ardle leans in close to Lankmar and whispers. "The anti-dragon faction."  
"Who are the anti-dragon faction?"  
Ardle coughs. "Pretty much every other yokai apart from us," she admits. "We used to number in the dozens, but the club's dwindled recently. Still, with you here, that's what." She looks around the room and counts. "Six?"  
"Don't forget that the trial gave us a higher profile." The old yokai has spoken up.  
"Oh yeah," says Ardle. "That's both good..."  
"And bad," finishes the yokai.  
"Good because we might get a few new members..." Ardle indicates Lankmar.  
"And bad because we might lose them all in another purge," says the busy yokai.  
"It's kinda hard for us," Ardle says. She walks over to the couch and sits down. "Sit with me please." When Lankmar does so, she continues. "Myself and Gith there" Gith waves, "can't really recruit by ourselves."  
"Why not?"  
"Well, somehow, the higher-ups discovered that we were trying to revive the Dragon Fan Club and they put a death-sentence on us. We came here for safety, but there aren't that many potential converts in the heart of the dragon lands, so we rely on other members to recruit for us. Pickings have been slim."  
"Wow, you must have met loads of dragons then."  
"No." Ardle is shocked. "We don't really leave here much. We just read the reports sent in by members and those friendly to our cause mostly. Some of it's real juicy stuff. Want any info?" She pulls a book from under the cushions and offers it to Lankmar. "This one's a yaoi about the Dragonlord and Alfeegi. It's got rude bits in it."  
"I don't know why you read that trash." Gith has spoken again. "Everyone knows that Alfeegi loves Ruwalk, or Kai-Stern, or both."  
"Apparently, he loves Tetheus."  
Gith snorts. "Yeah right, and Kharl the Alchemist's interest in that human boy is purely professional."  
"I don't care what Kharl the Alchemist gets up to." Ardle arches her back and wrinkles her nose in disgust.  
"He was the one that shopped you, wasn't he?"  
"He's so effeminate. I just assumed that he leaned that way." Her mood lowers for the first time and she whispers. "I can't believe that I trusted him. I only just..." She trails off and loses herself in sad memories, but her natural bounciness springs back after a short introspection and she turns to Lankmar with an insane grin on her face.  
"Anyway, let's discuss you. We were hoping that you could talk to a few dragons for us. Get a feel for the way they talk and stuff. The ultimate achievement for any DFC member would be to talk to a dragon, but I get so embarrassed and tongue-tied and I just end up looking like a fool. Morten too. We're all the same really. Gith's the worst though, he just gets all high pitched and squeaky whenever he thinks a dragon's even nearby. But you, you talked to one. You touched one and nursed him back to health. You've got to be over the shyness that affects the rest of us."

"Morten" appears to be the bulky human Lankmar met first. He's engrossed in one of the hard-bound volumes. From his expression, he's reached a fairly salacious part of the story and is obviously paying no attention to the conversation. Ardle's eyes are shining and she's having difficulty staying fixed to her seat. Her complete and total attention is on Lankmar and Lankmar shifts in her seat and tries not to catch her eyes.

"I didn't really talk to him. He was delirious most of the time, and when he finally got some marbles back, I totally clammed up. I can't talk to dragons either."  
"Still, you came here. You must have wanted to see him again?" Ardle's eyes are pleading with Lankmar and she nods curtly.  
"You've been closer to a dragon than anyone in this room. The Draqueen base was once a holiday treat for DFC members, everyone wanted to come and visit here even once. It was also a refuge for those that were exposed by Nadil's Army."  
"Now the All-New Nadil-less Nadil's Army," interjects Lankmar.  
"It doesn't really matter. The only change is that Nadil's gone. The bosses you and me deal with never changed. I suppose it's really Nadil's Headless Army, since we've still got the rest of him. Anyway, the energy back then was amazing. Everyone wanted to see a dragon and due to the size of the groups, one or two were even able to say hello, or ask directions. After the purge, well, we're a shadow of our former glory." Ardle's voice grows more urgent as she continues. "Without us, how are the dragons going to survive when yokai take over? We can't let them be wiped out. This sorry crew is all that stands between them and oblivion."  
Lankmar coughs and ventures, "What about the dragons themselves? I'm sure that they'll be working hard to ensure their survival."  
Ardle looks sympathetically at her and speaks a little slower. "They're horribly out-numbered and given the state of their young ones, I'm not sure that they've got a sense of self-preservation." She looks to Gith and admits, "Our original plan was a little ambitious. 100 members by the end of our first month and that might be why over half the membership was expelled from the Army. Still, we're building up again."  
"And at least number 1 escaped," says Gith.  
"Number 1?" queries Lankmar.  
"We all have codenames," says Ardle. "It's so exciting. Mine's Drachan, get it?"  
"Just in case the Club was busted by the bosses, which it was," adds Gith. "Hey, want to see the report on your trial?"  
"No thanks, I remember everything that happened."

"Anyhow", says Ardle. "Now that you're here, we expected you a little earlier, but still. Um." She's gotten distracted again. "Oh yeah, we can work on our plan to get you into the Castle."  
"What?"  
"You can give us much needed information on their habits and so on. We really need someone on the inside."  
"But, surely they have wards and barriers to keep yokai out."  
"We're sure that there's a way around them. A yokai called Zoma's living there now and he's okay."  
"Why don't you recruit Zoma then?"

Ardle turns a bright pink. The blush extends even to her feet.  
"Meet the founder and only member of the Zoma Preservation Society," laughs Gith. "Besides, he never leaves the castle, we can't get in, so we can't ask him."

Ardle focuses her attention on Lankmar again. "You're the only one who can do this. You're the only one with a chance of getting into the castle."  
"See if you can get a hold of something personal, cologne or a handkerchief or something."  
"I haven't said that I'll do this," says Lankmar, splitting her attention between Ardle and Gith. "I've only just arrived in town, I'm still finding my feet. I need to get a place to stay and a job before even thinking about looking for my dragon."  
Ardle leans forward with a wicked glint in her eyes. "Kill all three birds with one stone. Apply to the castle." 

* * *

Thanks Sam Baku. The DFC was supposed to be a throwaway comment for the Court-Martial. I hope you like your chapter.  
I seem to introduce a lot of yokai that never appear again. Sorry if that's a bit off-putting for you, but she is a minion and those are the kinds of people that she knows and would get involved with. At least this chapter had some dragons in it. 


End file.
